“Do you remember that blue silk dress,
pale blue, like a summer sky?
Your movie star dress we called it.”
“I went dancing in it.”
“You looked like Grace Kelly in that dress.”
Your lips form a small pink bow.
I catch a glimpse of Grace.
“I wore my hair up just like her.”
“I could put it up for you again.
Would you like that?”
Your eyes fix on something far away,
a distant memory,
a solitary light in the darkness.
You turn to me, quizzical.
“Do I know you?”
I smile and squeeze your hand.
Inside I’m crying.